Illumina
by SeungSeiRan
Summary: On losing yourself and finding what you need in the eleventh hour. Ichigo x Rukia.


Based partly on the events of Ch. 421 and their consequences. What if Ichigo lost his powers but was allowed to regain them for one last purpose?

Disclaimer: Bleach and its respective characters are property of Kubo Tite.

* * *

"Ichi-nii! Santa's come early!"

He looks at what Yuzu's pointing at. Her slim little finger on the glass obscures the hooded shadow in red on the street. "Not quite…"

Rukia stops and waves at him, no older than she had been five months ago. Ageless, timeless, lack of change casts no further ripples than it does when his hair was shorter and their endless summer romance was on the rocks. Now that he's had time – all this time – to think about it, change is the one constant he is going to have to learn to live without.

And Rukia.

Rukia, not even on the cusp of her maiden glory, will have to come and go from his life as another shadow, a wave from the sidewalk before she was too far off in the sky to see him raise an arm tattooed in scars to her in remembrance. A half-hearted toast to her life and his.

Even back when these two were intertwined closer than the tendrils of a honeysuckle vine.

* * *

The red cape is a gift from the Kurosaki girls. A token of appreciation for keeping their brother alive.

Come winter and the first fresh sheet of snow on the estate grounds, she slips into it easily, as if it were the old rags of her childhood days in the Rukongai barracks, fighting for the right to see each tomorrow through. To her surprise, nobody said a word against the red woolen cape when she'd first swept through the open corridors of Soul Society. Maybe since red is a color they've all become familiar within a War and its aftermath, they'd let her slide past with no eyebrows raised.

Or maybe being Lieutenant just comes with its perks.

In many respects, her promotion is as unsurprising as they come. She can boast of more battle wounds than officers twice her height in years and a repertoire that includes fending off Hollows, Arrancars and backhands. It's nothing; nothing much but time weaving its spell, taking its course and unwinding the yarn of her life's tale.

Rukia wears the cape like she does her pride. Without respite or remorse for what has come to pass.

But she can't help the spurt of sadness (just a little) that erupts when Ichigo's eyes don't meet hers at the window, his face scrunched in concentration at the snowman on the lawn instead.

She tries not to think about it. But she can't help it.

* * *

He's allowing his hair to grow slightly below his ears. A certain battle had once led him to chop it all off without a moment's consideration for the gentle teasing that would follow, only urged on by a need to reverse change and go back to where he was at the beginning. A kid with nothing more to worry about than the state of his own affairs, cluttered and blurred to the eye as they were.

He thinks of who he was when a breeze rustles his curtains at night or when the door to his classroom opens unexpectedly. Just as insignificant then as gush of air or a creak in study-hall. Ordinary, painfully so.

Regrets. He's not sure how to categorize them anymore. Sometimes the things you know you'll get over hurt you most when you try and figure out why you should and how. He knows that one day, halcyon days will be stories that keep his grandkids up all night when they listen to his cracked weathered voice. These things and more, he rarely admits to anyone, including himself. Likewise, the two months she'd spent by his side and all those hard knocks he's taken for and _from_ her… will be reduced to anecdotes by the fireside when nothing else keeps him warm.

Maybe he'll forget the bruises, the scars, the gaping flesh wounds that take a lifetime (or what seems like it) to heal.

But he can't forget her.

And in these strange ways that humans have with keepsakes they can't hold in the palms of their hands, he knows that he won't ever allow himself to ever let go of her place by his.

* * *

She's very fond of cold winter mornings when she allows herself a few minutes to sit outside with a cup of steaming hot sweet tea. Next to the pond, she watches the sky change in its mirror on the ice's surface. Sometimes, Renji joins her, despite his disinclination towards sitting around and any tea weaker than the dregs he still chugs down in Rukongai's oldest pub. Today is not one of those days.

She doesn't mind the lonesomeness as much as the idea of being truly alone. There are always servants and family members pacing the manor hallways but none that has Orihime's laugh, Sado's steadiness, Ishida's quirks or even Kon's… well, Kon's Just-Being-Kon. And Ichigo. Yes, she owes Ichigo a lot to account for changes.

Rukia tries hard to not look back in sadness.

But you know those cold sores you get when you bite down too hard on your lip and how you always seem to find an excuse to prod them harder even though they sting the worst when they're dried? Do you know _why_ you do it?

These are not sores, anything but. Yet, she strokes them harder, bringing up the bad with the good so she can untie one from the other and hold up the flowers which have bloomed from friendship and perhaps something more…

Perhaps…

… this blossom has yet to flourish.

* * *

It is cold, wet and more snowflakes have covered her tracks. But you see him persevere onwards regardless.

He's forgotten how or why he's supposed to say it.

There still remains what he needs to tell her.

All is not lost. He's acting on an impulse but still…

He can't let it go entirely.

Leaves flutter closer to his knees, myrtle green until he looks closer.

Butterflies.

When the screen doors open before him, he swears he hears the ocean gurgling through his years. A calm noise, just the waves lapping in trepidation. Zangetsu's nodding his head in approval, slightly weaker. But that's just a question of spirit.

He's closer to finding out what he needs.

What comes next will be his guide from here on.

The ghost of a smirk lighting his face, Ichigo steps into Soul Society for the last time.


End file.
